


Tantalus

by lakeghost



Series: Damned and Deserted [1]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Canon Divergence - Castlevania (Cartoon) Season 3, Castlevania Season 3 Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Multi, Post-Season/Series 03, Regret, Restraints, Short One Shot, Sumi and Taka only kinda sorta make a cameo appearance, Trauma, Whump, bodies decay and that's okay, but they're part of the plot so I gotta tag, just be forewarned, what's the opposite of a fix-it?, wreck-it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakeghost/pseuds/lakeghost
Summary: What if the bonds didn't break?
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Series: Damned and Deserted [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786096
Comments: 31
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some version of this has been kicking around my head since I watched s3; I felt like having the restraints magically break as soon as Sumi and Taka died was a bit of a missed opportunity
> 
> I felt inspired after reading  
>  _[A Night at the Inn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282272/chapters/55757776)_ by [ cricketsong1985 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cricketsong1985) (great fic! highly recommend!) and was reminded that vampires can take some real hard hits and survive - and so here we are
> 
> Enjoy!

He didn’t know how long he had been laying there. After some time, he wasn’t so much waiting anymore as enduring indefinitely. There was no concept of an end to this - no finish line time was marching toward. He’d damned himself and now he was living with the cost of his actions. There was plenty of time to consider the injustice of the whole thing as their blood seeped deeper into the sheets, drawn up nearer and nearer to his face and nose. It was a taunt, jeering at him from beyond death. If he were human he might have had a chance to free himself - if he were human, the thick red all around him would be wholly a testament to his terrible act, not a panacea, a sick reward for acknowledging some innate brutality. If he were human, he’d be dead.

***

The flies should have been a giveaway. Trevor didn’t know how long he had been storming the halls, but the bugs had begun to get on his nerve. He was already on edge - he expected Adrian to meet them at the gates, or at least step out of the shadows while Trevor roamed the maze of halls. Perhaps he was already outside and was helping Sypha with the horses. Or off hunting. Or he’d moved on and let the castle become an empty tomb. Anything other than the fear nibbling at the back of his mind.

Every horror was shoved to the forefront when he paced past an open doorway and was affronted by the smell of decomposition.

He was already thrown by the shock of coming across three motionless forms, but that paled in comparison to his revulsion at the recognition of Adrian’s limp body. His feet kept walking closer, mechanical and disbelieving. He noticed the weeping - writhing? - ulcers etched deep into his limbs, encircling his torso.

It took Trevor further seconds to make sense of the odd pus in the wounds, but as he stepped closer, the reality was all too apparent. Maggots - fat on Adrian’s flesh - squirmed and gnawed deeper into the cuts made by the silver bindings.

Trevor’s brain seemed desperate to avoid considering what this meant for Adrian - he wasn’t dead, he _couldn’t_ be dead - and so it kept feeding him information about the tableau before him. There were two bodies crumpled at the foot of the bed, both of which had fared much worse than the dhampir. They were beyond the bloated stage of a fresh body, and it was clear where their skin had split in places and allowed the churning rot inside to spill over Adrian’s legs. But the heavy, spoiled-sweet smell was still strong and the corpses still wet, attended to by the same flies that gathered around the cuts in Adrian’s body like a glittering black sheet. It must have been a couple weeks then, since it happened.

Finally, Trevor’s body gave up and he retched, and his sudden movement scattered the flies into a dark cloud that dissipated quickly as he fought to keep it down.

A low rasping, almost hissing, caught his attention. Trevor’s brain let him look at Adrian’s face for the first time, and he braced himself to see the same gaping sockets as the unfortunate souls on the bed behind him. Instead he was staring into horrifyingly alive eyes - a familiar gold ringed in red, set deep into the skin of his face. He repeated the same rasping noise, _awake_ and experiencing every crushing moment of whatever pain he must be in.

Trevor rushed to bend forward, attempting to brush the vermin away so he could at least see what was holding him in place. As soon as his hands neared the restraints, Adrian jerked towards him, snapping his teeth with force. Trevor hopped back, hands up, and Adrian stilled again.

His face was crusted with what must have been vomit, and later bile. The acid had left raw and flaking patches of skin trailing across his face and neck, now tempered with silent tears running down the sides of his face. His mouth dropped open, and Trevor could see that his tongue looked swollen and dry. It was obvious what he needed - his body had focused what dwindling regenerative power it had left into keeping him animated, even as his body hovered in death - or close enough, according to the myriad necrophages burrowing into his muscle.

Trevor decided he didn’t care if Adrian tore him apart like a wild animal, sucked the marrow from his bones and blood from his heart. He deserved it for leaving him like this.

He knelt alongside the bed again and saw Adrian squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head incrementally away. Trevor felt along the thin cord with one hand and reached for a short knife with the other. His fingers grasped the fine silver but brushed the core of the seeping wound. He expected to see Adrian wince, but he seemed to be focused somewhere else. Trevor snapped the first strand with a quick tug - immune to the silver and blessings, it wasn’t terribly difficult - and set about tearing apart each segment of wire he could reach. He threw glances to Adrian between his hurried movements, prepared to be thrown to the ground and devoured at any moment, but the other man was tensed and still. After some number of links had been broken, a threshold must have been crossed, because Adrian gasped and immediately curled into a tight ball, apparently what he had been straining to do this entire time.

Trevor dropped his blade and heard it clatter to the ground as he braced himself, but Adrian had already turned to what was closest. He tore up the sheet beneath him, stiff and black, soaked through with rotten blood, and shoved it into his mouth.

He gnawed desperately at the fabric, buried his face in it as he moved his mouth along to a new section. He hadn’t said a word, but the rasping had stopped, replaced with a low whining that would haunt Trevor for years to come. The hunter was spellbound watching the display for a moment before he moved.

“I’m coming back,” Trevor managed to whisper.

***

When he returned the chamber, breathless, Adrian had moved to the darkest corner beyond the bed, hunched and gripping fiercely at his skin. He must have smelled the warm doe Trevor had dragged behind himself, because he whimpered again, softer this time. Trevor got close enough to see the fresh gouges in his skin where he had begun to claw at the pain and parasites.

He brought the doe within reach of the shaking figure and was finally able to read his expression. Trevor could see him trying to think as he strained against the force that told him to rip into the one thing in the room with a heartbeat.

“Do you want me here, now?” He did not expect the flash of fear and confusion that contorted Adrian’s features. He quickly followed, “I mean - me and Sypha are right outside, she’s getting you more and I can help bring it up.” Trevor nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. His death wish had momentarily subsided enough that he’d rather avoid being the second course.

“Sypha?” Just hearing a full word from the man gave Trevor more faith than he’d felt all day.

“I told her we had some things to take care of first.”

That seemed to be permission enough, and Adrian half-crawled, half-fell onto the deer’s throat - clawing and biting in equal measure until his face was entirely obscured.

Trevor kept nodding as he stepped to the door. “Eat, drink. We’ll be right back.”

*** 

He managed another deer and most of a hog before he began heaving, and coughed up half of what he’d drank. Trevor was kneeling beside him, attempting to hold back the tangle of straw-like hair and steadying his shoulders. The thin figure hacked and wept, and Trevor was silent. There wasn’t anything to say. When Adrian’s body had rejected all it was going to, Trevor gripped the haggard carcass in front of them and pulled it closer. He watched him collapse again onto the pig, choking on needy mouthfuls as he ran his hand along the knobs of his spine, brushing away a few stubborn maggots.

Sypha met them in the private kitchen. Her pacing stopped as soon as she heard them coming, and Trevor could see the tears collecting in her eyes as soon as they stepped through the doorway.

“Oh,” she breathed. Though he no longer looked like a corpse, he by no means looked _well_. His skin still had the texture of onionskin paper, and dead skin beside black rot collected around the endless, twisting lattice of wounds around his body. Trevor tried to get most of the bugs off, but their handiwork was on full display.

Sypha threw herself at him as hard as she dared, wrapping her arms around the least marred parts of his skin. Adrian shifted his weight from Trevor’s shoulder to Sypha. He pushed his face into the side of her neck, seeking reassurance she was alive, present. It felt feral in its desperation - not threatening, but like the human part of him may have died up in that bed anyway.

She wanted to cry, but couldn’t. She felt sick - nauseous deep in the core of her being. After everything that had happened over the past few weeks, how could she ever be sure of herself again? She’d thought … they’d both thought … 

It didn’t matter right now.

There was work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those concerned with logistics, I'm imagining Sypha was responsible for hunting down the deer - I figure if she can reduce a demon to a fine dice in midair, she can probably manage some large game on short notice
> 
> also lmk if y'all would be interested in a ch2 of just care and healing ???


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> doing the work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the insightful, encouraging, lovely comments!!  
> I hope this chapter satisfies :)

“Hey, stop that.” Trevor’s voice was gentle as he pushed Adrian’s hands down. He’d been bickering with Sypha over the tap and hadn’t noticed him scratching at the sores along his arm.

“Itches.”

Trevor tried to smile, but only succeeded in rearranging his expression to something marginally less worried. “That’s got to be a good sign, right? Stuff growing back?” He hesitated, then rested his hand on an unmarked patch of his shoulder. “Just watch it with the claws, okay?”

Adrian glanced apathetically at the fresh gouges, sharp red dashes intersecting the mottled web of dulled greens and pinks. He shrugged.

Trevor turned back to the other situation at hand. “Sypha, have you figured it out yet?

Sypha, pragmatic as ever, had recommended getting cleaned up first, before addressing anything else.

Compared to some of the spaces in the castle, the washroom where they currently found themselves was small, cramped, even. It was still lavishly decorated, of course; rich green tile covered every surface, and the strange fire-less lights softly illuminated a massive copper basin that, in theory, could be filled with hot water. Adrian was sitting on a ledge between them and the bath.

He hadn’t offered up any information, but to be fair, Trevor didn’t know what to ask. He’d been alone, someone tied him up, he went through hell. The details were incidental.

“I think I found a handle for a pump, but I don’t really want to try it and end up breaking something.”

“What happened to the woman who melted the goddamn engine room last time we were here?” He’d intended to inject some scrap of levity into the exchange, but Sypha spun on him and leveled him a dead stare. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. She glanced over at Adrian, still sitting where he’d dropped down when they’d entered.

After a moment, he seemed to realize the conversation around him had stopped and looked up from the washrag he was holding.

“Oh - it’s, uh, the red knob, there. Turns to the left.”

Sypha nodded briskly and gathered up a towel, then strode over to the tub. While the basin filled, she sat on the ledge beside Adrian.

“May I see your arm?”

“It’s okay.” His voice was hoarse, but Sypha was glad he was speaking.

“You said it itches. I want to take a look.” Steam was beginning to collect in the corners of the room, and the tile all around them was holding onto the heat nicely.

He offered the limb wordlessly, and Sypha took it into her lap like it was a baby bird.

Sypha hadn’t seen the room where Trevor had found him, but his injuries were a perfect map. As the more severe wounds healed, bruises had bloomed along pressure points - the cuff of splotchy blue around his wrist forced her assessment onward. She traced her fingers along jaundiced skin beside a cut, taking notice of the thick crust of necrosis enveloping it.

“It will heal better if we can clear away the dead flesh, yes?”

“It will still scar.”

“You can’t know that -”

“I know.” His eyes were hard.

Her gaze had drifted unconsciously from his face to the gnarled ridge that spanned the length of his chest. “I’m sorry.”

His demeanor changed quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, stop it, I’m sorry.” She ran her thumb over the back of his hand. “I can’t know what you’re feeling. I need to be more …” she frowned, thinking. “I need to remember not everything can just be fixed. It’s not all a puzzle for me to solve.” 

“You must hate that.” His expression seemed to Sypha one of understanding, but could have been resignation.

“I’m working on it.”

He turned his arm to hold her hand, and she squeezed it in return. The silence that followed was easier.

“A Speaker at a loss for words, imagine that.” Trevor approached from the other side of the room and paused to turn off the water.

“Shut up!” Sypha lobbed a wadded up towel at his head, which he ducked less than gracefully. She still held Adrian’s hand and could feel his arm move as he tittered quietly.

“I found soap … I think.” He indicated the small collection of jars in his arms as he took a seat on the ledge.

“I’m surprised you recognized it.” Adrian smirked, but the expression pulled open a split in his lip, which began to ooze blood. He raised the hand not in Sypha’s grasp to feel it. “Ah, fuck.”

“Here, hang on a second,” Trevor mumbled as he leaned over the pair of them to wet Adrian’s abandoned rag in the water. It was an awkward stretch, one that pressed part of his side along Adrian’s chest, and he was startled to feel a racing heartbeat under his sedated demeanor. He sat back and dabbed at his lip, then moved to gentle strokes over his cheek, then jaw, carefully softening the flaking skin and dried blood there. He caught sight of a wince from Sypha on the other side of the dhampir.

“Adrian?”

“Mm?” He reluctantly turned his head away from Trevor.

“I think - it looks like the skin healed over some … debris. I don’t know if -” she cut herself off.

Adrian took a deep breath in through his mouth. “I need to flush the wounds properly and excise what’s dead.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off Sypha, and Trevor got the sense he was avoiding looking at himself.

“Can we help you?” Trevor tried to keep his voice even.

“You can do whatever you like.”

The quiet response was fast, icy, and struck Trevor hard in the ribs.

Determined, Sypha marched forward. “Okay then. Dirt first.” She took a cloth from beside her and dunked it into the basin, then set about her task. She ignored the brown-black water that dripped off onto her robes, and kept methodically navigating the jagged lattice of cuts.

Adrian kept his eyes averted and stared into the middle distance beyond Trevor’s shoulder. The hunter held up the rag again - begging permission - and Adrian nodded.

They worked in silence for a while, slowing sloughing off dark layers of decay. Occasionally Adrian would reflexively tighten his grip on Sypha’s hand when the raw edge of a cut was disturbed. This became more and more frequent as they got closer to more damaged areas.

Trevor picked up his pace in an effort to get it over with, his movement brisk and abrasive as it passed over the wide gash on Adrian’s thigh. Sypha took a different tack.

“Have you ever heard of a man who calls himself ‘the pirate of the roads’?”

This was sufficiently bizarre to get him to stop growling at Trevor, so she went on. “I’d assume not, but he had such conviction, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

She went on describing some of their various encounters - often with embellishments that extracted an eye roll from Trevor. Adrian listened quietly, nodding and smiling tentatively, and retained his grip on her hand. The conversation - one-sided as it was - circled lazily, filling up the foggy room with meaningless details to engage with. As it bore on, Trevor could tell she was spiralling slowly closer to the events at Lindenfeld that had sent them back to the castle. To his relief, the water had finally begun to run clear, prompting a change in topic.

“The area around my ankles is the worst. Can you start there?” Adrian’s stare was unfocused, landing somewhere on the far wall.

Sypha peered around the pale form between them and added, “You have the steadier hand - you should probably do it.” 

Trevor nodded and felt for an appropriate tool. Nearly all his blades were consecrated in some way or another, and the ones that weren’t were silver-edged. He had a blade for every occasion but this one.

“Um, Sypha? I don’t have anything on me that’s not, er …”

He felt rather than saw Adrian go stiff.

Sypha quickly rummaged through her robes and withdrew a small pouch, and from it a slim knife. “Better for vegetables.” Her voice was light; Adrian relaxed slightly.

Trevor slid to the floor and gently tugged a leg forward. He took a deep breath as he considered the sheer quantity of tissue he needed to cut around. Even from his distance he could see the pustules beginning to form around the eggs and rotten skin he’d failed to remove before the body had healed over and trapped the infection. Those would need to be reopened. “This is - it’s probably going to hurt.” The early skin and muscle that had pieced together so fast seemed almost cruel now, full of fresh new nerves.

“It needs to be done.”

***

Finally, they’d gotten him into the bath.

He was covered up to his shoulders in water, leaning forward over his knees so Trevor could reach his hair.

He’d been painfully stoic through the entire ordeal, absent from his body in an upsettingly practiced way. The pile of snowy dead skin and unidentifiable debris slowly grew beside Trevor, marking the time they’d spent away. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Adrian to lay on his back again, so he awkwardly maneuvered his body and arms to reach the more difficult spots.

Sypha had stepped out to make them tea once he was fully submerged. He had some trouble standing, but was able to get in on shaky legs. As Sypha left she shook her wrist, probably pins and needles from Adrian gripping it like a lifeline.

***

The sensation of Trevor’s calloused fingers running over his scalp and through his hair had put him in something of a trance, so the question took him by surprise.

“Who were they?”

Adrian felt his vision reduce to pinpricks as he was thrown back into the room. He tensed and jerked back, caught by Trevor’s hand at the base of his neck.

“Hey, whoa, it’s okay.”

“I’m -” his thoughts spun, unfocused.

“Deep breaths, yeah?”

He inhaled, anchored in this space that smelled like familiar soap and old copper, like Trevor and Sypha. He was here.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to try talking about it early, thought it might be easier if it was just me to start.”

He nodded.

“They were … “ He thought for a moment. _Friends? Students? Lovers, for some shallow instant?_

“I put my trust in the wrong people.”

“But who -”

“Humans.” He looked down at the cloudy water, where the surface met his skin. He expected some kind of reaction from Trevor, a cynical quip, or general disappointment, but the man was silent behind him.

His arms snaked slowly over Adrian’s chest, carefully pulling his back to the wall of the tub where Trevor could rest his chin on his shoulder.

“I thought - I just thought…” He didn’t realize he was crying until he saw tears drip into the bath.

“I didn’t have a choice. They took that away, but …” He searched for his words as he heard Sypha reenter the room. “I don’t think they were bad people.” He felt the tug at the back of his skull pulling him back into that limbo, tepid blood pooling at his ankles and silver biting his skin -

“Adrian?” Sypha’s voice chirped softly at his other ear. “You’re okay.”

He let himself smell the earthiness of the tea wafting through the room.

Soap, copper. Trevor, Sypha. Here.

They talked a little more. He managed to convey a sequence of events, and they got across the reasons they’d come back. There was so much more to say, but his hair was clean, and they all needed sleep.

Sypha helped him out of the tub and Trevor handed him a towel. As they guided him to a seat, he dried himself and inspected his body. 

The wounds would scar, but first, they had to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if canon gets pre-1500 old world tomatoes, i get my anachronistic tea


End file.
